


A Third Degree Heartbreak

by Jay Auris (nighthawkms)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drunk Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Season 3 Finale, lots of sad feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighthawkms/pseuds/Jay%20Auris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Through the fear and the pain, the worst part isn't from the fire or from the Dragon's kiss. It's from the stabbing wound in his chest that reminds him over and over again who gave him up for the slaughter."</p>
<p>Frederick and Will's relationship, before and after the flames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So many ChillyWilly feels from 3.12. This was supposed to be a lot darker. Blame @rdlenix on twitter for my inability to write pure angst, or thank her, depending on your point of view ;)

"Will Graham is helping Jack Crawford on the Tooth Fairy case."

Alana mentions this offhand, a little factoid offered like a worm on a hook. Frederick knows that it's bait, but he bites anyway.

"Oh? I thought he was no longer working with the FBI?" The last time Frederick had seen the other man in person was in court, testifying, to put Hannibal Lecter behind bars for the rest of his life. Over two years ago, then.

"He agreed to consult on this case," Alana says. "And he's asked to see Hannibal."

That makes Frederick pause, and look up from the article he's pretending to read while sprawled out on the couch in Alana's - formerly  _his_ \- office. "Are you going to let him?"

"I let you use Hannibal as a personal chef every other week." Alana keeps her eyes on the laptop in front of her, clacking away at the keys. "Letting Will see him isn't out of the question."

"Make sure you buy some Windex before he comes," Frederick quips. "One of them is bound to fog up the glass trying to slobber all over the other one. And perhaps you should've installed those air holes at a less  _suggestive_  height."

Alana rolls her eyes, finally looking up. "That green-eyed monster on your back is an unappealing look, Frederick."

"You think I'm jealous? One of those men is a cannibalistic psychopath and the other is a hermit with a puppy play fetish." He snickers at his own quip, muttering: "Probably has an outfit in the back of his closet for it and everything."

Alana closes her laptop screen, looking at him pointedly. "You've got plenty of skeletons in  _your_  closet, Frederick, so let's not be so hasty to judge. You're jealous because you've never had a connection to another human being like that in your entire life."

Frederick lets out an unconvincing laugh and stands up. "I'm not the one who slept with one of them and made moon-eyes at the other for a good year. Good afternoon, Dr. Bloom. Oh, and tell Margot I said hello."

But his curiosity gets the best of him later on, when he emerges from Hannibal's cell after a meeting, only to see Will Graham waiting outside.

"Dr. Chilton," Will acknowledges him with a nod of his head. He looks bright-eyed and focused, less haunted than the man who stood in court a little over two years ago.

"Mr. Graham." Frederick holds out a hand to shake. "I trust you're doing well?"

Will grips his hand firmly and shakes. "I am."

"Yes, well, I've heard you got married? And a stepson as well. You're certainly not the same man I wrote about in my book."

"I read your book," Will says, expressionless. "I don't think I ever was exactly that man."

Frederick lets out a strained chuckle. "Had to make it a bit more interesting for my audience, William. You understand, of course."

"I'm here to see Hannibal," Will says, apparently not caring to talk about Frederick's book. "Is he alone?"

Frederick nods. "I just left him. He's been informed of your imminent arrival."

Will says nothing for a moment, staring beyond Frederick at the door behind him. Only when Frederick clears his throat, loudly and obviously, does the other man look back at him. "Are there cameras?"

"Yes?" Frederick tries to keep his eyebrows from climbing up past his hairline. "They aren't monitored regularly though. Only checked if an incident occurs."

"Sound recording?"

"No... Dr. Bloom has chosen to remove sound devices from the hospital for the...  _benefit_  of the patients." Alana had produced several choice words for Frederick about 'patient rights' and 'dozens of mental health violations' when she'd taken over. He's still a little sore.

"Thank you," Will says, sweeping past him. "See you later, Dr. Chilton."

Frederick watches the door shut behind him.  _Well, so much for being subtle_ , he thinks.  _I wonder if I can procure the tape from the camera room before Alana realizes it's gone. See exactly if my hunch was right._

_~_

He manages to snag a copy of the footage from Lecter's cell, but when he watches it, all Hannibal and Will do for that first meeting is stand and talk at each other. Frederick really doesn't know what he was expecting. Did he really think Hannibal was going to unzip his jumpsuit and Will would get on his knees in front of the glass?  _Mr. Graham does have the lips for something like that..._

A highly sexual image flashes into his head, and Frederick nearly drops his laptop. He adjusts himself in his seat, hoping no one on the train noticed his twitchy movements. The idea that Will and Hannibal might attempt a hurried, indiscreet moment of passion is an admittedly erotic one. 

But why should Hannibal get any sort of fun in Frederick's private fantasies? No, Frederick should be the one getting pleasured...

_What are you doing?_  he thinks, shutting the laptop.  _Why are you thinking about cock sucking on public transportation? Really, Frederick, sometimes your timing is terrible._

The thought rises to his mind again later on, out of nowhere.  _Hannibal wouldn't be the one pleasuring me_ , Frederick thinks, staring up at his ceiling in the darkness.  _Too likely that he'd take his revenge on me by biting something off._  No, Hannibal shouldn't be anywhere near Frederick's cock, thank you very much.

But Will is a much better option. He's quite handsome, Frederick can admit. Strong jaw, piercing eyes, the aforementioned cock-sucking lips. It would be fantastic to make Hannibal watch as Will got on his knees for Frederick. Even behind bars, Hannibal usually seems unflappable, frustratingly so. But oh, how delightful if Hannibal was forced to watch someone else be with Will. Surely that would get under his skin in some way.  _He'd absolutely steam when he heard Will moaning my name over and over again..._

Frederick realizes that he is hard, and he twists over onto his stomach, letting out a too-pleased noise.  _How twisted must I be, to get off on this_ , he thinks, but he reaches under the sheets anyway. A few minutes later, he's snoring, a warm, sticky trail of possibilities leaking down his leg.

 

~

 

Frederick just happens to make himself present whenever Will comes to the BSHCI from now on. He claims he's looking at other patients for book possibilities, and he does interview quite a few boring specimens, but Alana always gives him that look that says  _I don't believe you in the slightest_. She allows him to keep coming though. Probably to ensure he keeps his mouth shut about the lies they both told on the stand at Hannibal's trial.

"Do you still work here?" Will asks one time, and when Frederick tries to excuse his presence, Will gives Frederick the same look Alana does. "You're not nearly a good enough liar, Frederick."

_Frederick_. He says it in the same way that Frederick imagines he would, right before Frederick pushes him down onto a bed for a good fuck. Lately, Frederick's fantasies have been migrating away from the BSHCI cell block to his actual bedroom, dragging Will along with him. Hannibal is at the periphery of these fantasies; always informed later on by a letter or a conversation of what took place.

Part of his mind tries to convince him that this obsession is unhealthy.  _No,_  he tells himself.  _What is unhealthy is the way Graham looks after every meeting with Hannibal._  The brightness is fading from his eyes, the old ghosts reemerging from their graves.

Once, Frederick even feels bold enough to mention it. "Perhaps you should take a break," Frederick offers as Will is leaving Alana's office. "Is Hannibal's input really worth that much to you?" Both Alana and Will look at him like he's gone certifiable. "It was only a suggestion..."

"You built an entire career out of Hannibal's input," Alana says, after Will leaves. "Since when do you care about the effect it has on others?"

"It was a  _friendly suggestion_ ," Frederick says. "We are all colleagues here, and it's in our best interest to look out for one another."

"Go home, Frederick, you're not sounding like yourself."

Deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole goes Graham, and Frederick follows behind his trail, picking up more and more bits and pieces to assemble his next work. Hannibal was Frederick's ticket to recognition, but the Tooth Fairy... this will be his masterpiece. His magnum opus. The APA will publish fawning reviews in their next newsletter. He will be the belle of the ball, metaphorically, at every conference from here to the Pacific.  Just as soon as Graham catches the Tooth Fairy - or Red Dragon,  _whatever_  he's called now - and puts him away, so he has no chance of coming after Frederick after the book is published.

 

~

 

One evening, Frederick is woken up by a phone call from Jack Crawford past midnight. "The Dragon attacked Will's family," Jack says. "Almost killed his wife. I'm telling you because we suspect Hannibal told the Dragon where he could find Molly. He might've given you as another possible target. I want to post security at your house for-"

"I'm checking into a hotel!" Frederick yelps out, already pulling a pair of trousers on. "Send someone to drive m- _ahhhhhhh_!!" Something smacks against his bedroom window at that exact minute - a tree branch. It's just a tree branch. "Sorry, that was nothing... just send someone here!"

"Someone will pick you up in fifteen minutes," Jack says. Frederick swears he can hear the man laughing as he hangs up.

No one comes to murder him that evening. Jack clears him to go back home the next day, but Frederick insists on that security detail he was promised. He is  _not_  having another serial killer chloroform him because the FBI didn't do their job properly.

He spends the next 3 days trailed around by Price and Zeller, which seems to be punishment for all three of them, as Price and Zeller clearly don't want to be there, and Frederick has to listen to them make little jokes and comments under their breath. "He isn't important enough for the damn Tooth Fairy to kill," Zeller notes one afternoon while they're driving him to the BSHCI. Frederick sits in the back of the car with headphones on, pretending to be asleep instead of listening to them. "Why are we here again?"

"Because you thought it was funny to make a crack in the vicinity of Jack about Will's wife being 'mostly dead, not all dead.' Christ, Zeller, even you usually have better tact."

"It was a Princess Bride reference. Can't we just drop Chilton off at Will's house? He's always looking for new strays-  _oww!_  What the hell was that for?"

"And that's why I'm here. To make sure you don't piss Chilton off. It doesn't matter if he's not important enough. We keep him happy and he doesn't cause trouble for Jack and Dr. Bloom and Will Graham."

_Not important?_  Frederick thinks, twisting his head so they don't see his scowl.  _I'm extremely important. People respect me...  Well, they're interested in my work, at least. And I'm highly recognized in my field. So what if Hannibal disputes the content of my book? No one will believe him... Besides, no one will care about Hannibal the Cannibal after the Tooth Fairy gets his day in the spotlight._

~

 

Eventually, Price and Zeller leave, and Frederick is once again alone, the threat seeming to have passed. Three days after Ms. Graham is shot, Frederick returns to the BSHCI to ask Dr. Bloom about profiling the Tooth Fairy for his book. Alana blows him off, says she's too busy. He can see her playing Candy Crush on her tablet, but he says nothing, choosing to wander the halls instead of engaging her.  _Such lax security_ , he thinks when he wanders into what is supposed to be a secure wing.  _Although I suppose anyone but Hannibal doesn't pose much of a threat._

He's curious about what Hannibal knew about the Red Dragon's plan, what he influenced, so he decides to take a walk down to Hannibal's cell block. But when he enters the hallway just outside of Hannibal's room, Will Graham is sweeping through the doors like a man on fire.

Will stops when he sees Frederick. "Dr. Chilton," he breathes out, then says nothing more. Frederick can see the way his shoulders are tense, the slight tremor of his hands.

"Mr. Graham... are you alright?"

"Perfectly so," Will says, running a hand over his face, up through his hair. "Why are you here?"

"No particular reason," Frederick lies, an idea sparking in his mind. "You look like you could use a drink. Perhaps several."

"Perhaps... are you offering?"

"I am. We are colleagues, and as I told you several years ago, you and I both share a connection through the atrocities Hannibal Lecter has committed against us. The least I can do is offer a sympathetic ear."  _And maybe some alcohol will loosen your lips for my book..._

"Fine." Will says. Frederick can't say he isn't a little shocked that the proposal was agreed to. Will must be really desperate, or he's got his own motives. "I'll follow you to your house."

"House? I was thinking a bar or-"

Will shakes his head. "Can't deal with crowds right now. Your place or I'm going back to the hotel."

Frederick sighs. "Very well. Come on. It's not far."

 

~

 

Will did have ulterior motives. Frederick finally finds out what they are after forty-five minutes of awkward, one-sided small talk, while Will drains his bottle of gin and gets progressively more red-faced. For his part, Frederick is keeping up as best as possible. The alcohol makes the awkwardness less painful, and he's hidden a voice-recorder under the coffee table so that if he can't remember anything in the morning, he'll have audio proof of whatever questions he asks Will. He'd just like Graham to open his damn mouth and spill a few secrets! Is that so  _hard_?

"-and of course, Dr. Lecter tries to pretend his increasing irrelevance doesn't bother him. But you and I both know that to be false." Frederick hiccups, pouring a fourth glass for himself. He's slumped against the couch, having lost the pretense of politeness among familiar company. "You know, he was  _ecstatic_  when you returned to speak with him. You're his soul mate, so it seems."

Will glances up, looking a bit pained. "Change the subject..."

"Oh, come now. No one's buying the act anymore, William."  _Well, Will's lips aren't the only ones that have loosened, have they?_  "You can marry as many women as you please, we all know what's going on there."

" _Frederick..._ "

"He  _surrendered to the FBI_  for you!" Frederick shakes his head, too drunk to realize the tension in the room is building like a wire stretching, ready to snap. "Even if you won't admit it, he's certainly got no problem letting you know that he's in lo- _guhhh_!"

Frederick can't breathe; Will has moved from the armchair so fast, grabbing Frederick by the collar and yanking him up, twisting the fabric and cutting off his air. Will's eyes are burning, and for one terrified moment, Frederick thinks he's going to die.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Will growls. And then he slams Frederick back against the couch and descends on him, capturing his mouth in a hungry, frantic kiss.

For Frederick's part, he manages to do a passable job of reacting to the sudden lip lock while in this state. He grips the fabric of Will's flannel, catching his breath in the small moments that Will lets him up for air. Will drapes himself over Frederick, shoves a knee between Frederick's thighs, and practically drinks in the distressed cry Frederick lets out.

_Why?_  Frederick thinks, arching up as Will's hands slide their way down his body and start working the buckle on his slacks.  _I don't understand- god I want this but I don't understand-_

"You're talking out loud, Frederick," Will says, yanking Frederick's belt off.

"I am? Oh...  _ohhhh_ ," Frederick moans. Will's hand has found its intended target. "Yes, well... I'll stop now."

"Good." Will uses his free hand to start unbuckling his own belt. "Get your pants off and spread your legs."

Frederick feels like a wilting maiden three minutes later when Will is buried to the root inside him. Face flushed, breathing coming in quick, high gasps, he buries his face in Will's shoulder and tries not to throw up (fast movements and alcohol do not mix well). Thank god he remembered where the lube was. And the last of the condoms from that one regrettable encounter six months ago. They're both drunk, but not enough to forgo safe sex.

_Safe sex_ , Frederick thinks, letting out a drunken laugh.  _There's nothing safe about this sex._

It's over too fast to be called enjoyable. More like tension relief, or an acceptable distraction.  _Am I just a distraction?_  Frederick thinks as Will sits up, post-orgasm, and slides out of him.

"Will... why did we..." Will stares at Frederick, eyes widening in a look of worry. "Oh - no, please, don't misunderstand me. I wanted that. I just don't understand why you did."

"That's your problem," Will says, standing up. "You try to understand things you're incapable of."

Frederick folds his arms, pouting a bit. "Cryptic as always. You do realize I won't be offended if the reason is superficial? I'm quite handsome."

Will snickers, shaking his head. "It isn't that. Don't worry about it." He disposes of the condom in the wastepaper basket nearby and grabs his pants. "Thanks for the gin."

"You're leaving? You can't drive-"

"I'll call a cab." Will waves him off, pulling his pants on and picking up his shirt. "See you." He walks out of the room. Frederick hears the front door open and shut. He stares at the glasses and bottles on the coffee table in front of him, the scent of alcohol thick in the air. His throat goes dry; closes up. Slowly, he takes deep, calming breaths, and relaxes the nails he was digging into his leg without even noticing.

_So then, tension relief. That's all that was. Good to know._


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

_busy tonite?_

Frederick stares at the text from Will for a good two minutes before he bothers to reply.

_If you consider writing my next book in a Starbucks to be a busy evening, then yes. Why?_

His phone buzzes a minute later.

_figured i should repay u 4 last week._

There are two possible things Will could repay him for. Frederick isn't quite sure which he means.

_I can stop by later. Should I bring anything?_

_Just yourself._

Frederick knocks on Will's hotel room door around 8:30. The bed creaks, and Will opens the door a second later. "Hey," Will says. "Come in."

There's a decent spread of room service food on the small side table, and several bottles of beer. Frederick puts down his side bag and watches as Will moves over to the table and pops the caps on two beers.

"Have you been back to see Hannibal this week?" Frederick asks as Will hands him a beer. Not that he doesn't know the answer already. He's there practically every day.

"No," Will says, taking a deep swig from the bottle. "I heard Alana took his toilet seat away."

"She did," Frederick says, sipping the beer. "And his books and drawings. Maybe he'll finally lose some of that infuriating unflappability he's got."

"Never." Will finishes the bottle, and tugs Frederick's out of his hands, putting them down on the table. "Later, this is for later," Will says, when Frederick looks like he'll protest.

"Then... what's for now?"

Will is on him so fast, backing him against the door and kissing him with a unnerving ferocity. He pins Frederick's wrists to the wood, worrying Frederick's lower lip with his teeth. Frederick stifles a moan, conscious of how cheap this motel is (the FBI's finest) and how thin the walls are. 

"No," Will hisses, dragging his back towards the bed. "I want to hear you."

This time, Will is apparently prepared; condoms and lube are inside the side-table drawer. Frederick finds himself on his stomach, fists clenching the mattress as Will drives into him. Will wasn't kidding about hearing him either; he's got a hand gripped into Frederick's hair, holding his head back and preventing him from using the mattress to muffle his noises. There are more than a few hotel guests who are going to be unhappy with them by the end of the night.

"I just realized," Frederick says later, when they're lying side by side, catching their breaths. "I'm 'the other woman.' Except I'm not sure who's being cheated on, your wife or Hannibal."

Will winces and whacks him with a pillow. "I'd rather you not talk about my wife right now, thank you."

"Does she know you... enjoy the company of men? Have I stumbled into an open marriage situation by accident?"

"Frederick..." Will sighs, rolling over to face him. "I'm cheating on my wife with you. That's what is happening. Please leave it be." There's a buried pain behind those eyes. Frederick leaves it be.

"Anyway... if we're going to keep doing this, no more drinking." Frederick points to the four empty bottles he noticed only after their coupling. "The first time, we were both somewhat drunk, so we were on a fairly even playing field. But this time I was sober and you were not. I don't care if you think you're sober  _enough_  to consent. I'm many things, but a rapist isn't one of them."

Will holds up his hands in a mock submission. "Fine, agreed. If you're done lecturing me now-" He reaches out and pulls Frederick close, kissing him for a long moment.

_This is different than before_ , Frederick thinks, enjoying the closeness, the intimacy.

"Can I eat something?" Frederick asks when they finally break apart.

"Yes. But you can't stay the night."

"I figured that."

 

~

 

It becomes a ritual. Two or three times a week, sometimes at Frederick's house, sometimes at Will's hotel. They don't talk about Molly, or Hannibal, or the case. They don't talk about anything, really. Frederick is getting laid for the first time in ages, and Will looks at least a little more relaxed, even if Frederick knows there are still things weighing him down.

You'd think that knowing he was enabling a married man to cheat would make it harder, but Frederick knows nothing about Molly, and Will never mentions her, even when they're outside of the bedroom, consulting with Jack and Alana. It's like that part of Will's life has been excised for the time being. What he and Frederick do is a separate reality.

"Jack and Alana are scheming." Will is lying on his back, and Frederick is draped over Will's lower half, arms tucked under Will's body, kissing down his stomach. Frederick's mouth brushes against the centerpoint of Will's scar, and the other man twitches.

"I thought we agreed, no shop talk in bed," Will says, reaching down to stroke a hand through Frederick's hair.

"Mmmm, well, you aren't a man of many interests other than work..."

"You could just not talk."

"I just spend half an hour with your cock down my throat. Excuse me for being chatty after letting you whip my head up and down like a spring toy... why are you laughing?"

Will wipes his eyes, chuckling. "You're so indignant. You didn't seem to be complaining when I was fucking your mouth."

"It's kind of hard to complain at that point!" Frederick puts on his best scowl, but Will isn't buying it. He drags Frederick up to kiss him, silencing his protests. The kissing turns into yet another round of Frederick getting pounded into the mattress, which isn't something to really complain about.

A thought enters his mind later, as he rests his head on Will's shoulder.

"What will you do... after this?" Frederick asks. "When the Dragon is gone. Will you go back to your cabin in the middle of nowhere with your dogs and your wife and your peace?" The other question hangs in the air, unstated:  _Away from me?_

"Yes," Will says. "I left for a reason. I'm... She makes me happy." He lifts his head, and Frederick tries to smile, but it doesn't seem to be convincing, because Will's expression softens for just a moment. "You'll be happier too, Frederick. You'll have your book, your glory, your recognition; all the things you want."

"Yes," Frederick says. "I will. Have those, I mean." He closes his eyes, tries to concentrate on the future, on those things he's always craved. But they don't shine quite as brightly in his mind as they used to.

He drifts off soon after, dreaming of log cabins and warm arms slowly letting him go.

 

~

 

"He's ruined it all!" Frederick shrieks, storming into Will's hotel room. "I'm going to be the laughingstock of the psychiatric community!" Will mutters something under his breath, and Frederick glares at him. " _What_  was that?"

"Nothing," Will says, closing the door. "You're overreacting."

"He put my entire professional reputation into question!" Frederick can't see anything but red. He had enough trouble getting over here without crashing his car (already extra hard with one working eye) and he wants to put his fist through a wall. Or preferably, Hannibal's smug fucking face.

"Frederick." Will puts his hands on Frederick's shoulders. "Calm down."

Frederick stares up at him, breath coming in shuddering gasps. "We lied for him," Frederick says through gritted teeth. "I won't let him take what I deserve. I did the work, I put in my time, I'm going to get what's mine!"

"You will, Frederick," Will says. "You'll get it, and so much more." For some reason, the words aren't comforting. Will is looking at him, but his eyes aren't focused; there's a sadness behind them. A knot of worry bubbles up in Frederick's chest - but no, he's being paranoid. Will must be thinking about the case.

"You met with Alana and Jack today, right?" Frederick asks. "Was there an update about the Dragon?"

"Something like that," Will says, glancing down at the buttons on Fredrick's shirt. He reaches out and starts to undo them. "I'll tell you about it later."

Will is surprisingly gentle tonight, actually letting Frederick take the lead, touching him with soft hands and kissing him with a slow, burning passion that isn't normally there. He takes his time preparing Frederick, stretching him nicely before pushing into him. The oddity of it all makes it that much more erotic.

"Will," Frederick gasps, dropping his head back as he rides the other man. "W-we need to fuck like this more often..."

"Yeah..." Will says, voice low, almost far off. Frederick feels a hand against his cheek, and he opens his eyes to see Will staring intensely at him. "let's... let's make it a permanent thing..."

"W-what do you mean...?" Frederick gasps, because Will has hit that perfect spot, and he's hitting it now over and over again.

"I mean... fuck..." Will grabs Frederick's hips, snapping his own up in a hard thrust that makes Frederick yelp. "Permanently... this... I'd like to keep doing it..."

"Are you- are you saying...  _fuck!_ " Frederick shouts, his entire body tensing as a strong wave of pleasure rips through him. He hears Will moan and feels him come a second later. "Will," Frederick pants, "what are you saying?"

Will looks at him for a long moment as his breathing returns to normal. "I'm saying, after the Dragon has been caught, I'm not going to disappear."

"What does that mean for me?"

"Whatever you want it to mean," Will says, pushing up onto his hands to get eye-level with Frederick. "Tell me what you want, Frederick."

"I..." Frederick's eyes are wide, his throat dry. "I want that peace you talked about." He reaches a shaking hand out, cupping Will's cheek. "I want you."

Will glances down, pressing a kiss to Frederick's hand. "Okay," he says. "Then you can have me." Frederick jerks forward and wraps him in a tight hug, burying his face in Will's shoulder. Will strokes a hand down his back. "Hey, it's okay... It's going to be okay. Now, let me tell you about my meeting. I'm going to need your help with something."

Frederick will remember this moment later, because something about it rings too good to be true. And he will be right, to his own horror and despair.

 

~

 

The Dragon comes for Frederick.

Through the fear and the pain, the worst part isn't from the fire or from the Dragon's kiss. It's from the stabbing wound in his chest that reminds him over and over again who gave him up for the slaughter.

"You set me up," he whispers through lipless teeth, barely conscious through the agony of the burns. Will's face peeks from the edges of his cloudy vision, his so much colder, his eyes lifeless since their last meeting.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Frederick."

What a crock of shit those words are.  _I was just your pet,_  Frederick thinks. _You gave me treats to keep me happy and cut my throat when I was more useful to you dead than alive._

When Jack is done pulling any useful information from Frederick's charred corpse, he leaves. Will stays for a moment. Frederick closes his eyes, sucking a pained gasp through his now permanently open mouth.

"I'm sorry," Will murmurs softly. "For everything."

"Haven't you lied to me enough," Frederick chokes out. "I never want to see you again." Even with missing lips, his slurred words must make sense, because Will does leave.

_Fate has a habit of not letting us choose our own endings_. Hannibal said that. Frederick understands what he meant now. Fate was Hannibal Lecter, and he had already chosen Frederick's ending. He just needed Will to put the final pieces into place.

 

~

 

When Alana informs Frederick that Will and Hannibal are missing, presumed dead, he doesn't cry. His tear ducts aren't capable at this point of such a display, but even if they were, he'd be dry eyed. He's already pretty much half dead. No point in crying over the other two joining him.

But he isn't dead. Somehow, through some miracle, he's alive. There are months of painful surgeries, dozens of skin grafts that slowly replace the dead tissue and make him start to appear somewhat human again. He's able to leave the hyperbaric chamber, and move to a normal hospital room. They take all the mirrors out of the room; he can't bare to look at the mottled scar tissue yet. What he wouldn't give for a single surgical scar again. Twenty seconds of fire have turned him into an unrecognizable mess, he's sure.

As a final indignity, Hannibal ate Frederick's bottom lip, so the doctors had to find a similar, newly dead patient to recover the tissue from. The top lip just barely survives, and when they attach the new and the old lip to his face, it feels like there are tumors growing from his mouth for months.

It takes him eight months to step outside the hospital doors. There are still bandages covering multiple areas of his body - these he'll have to change multiple times a day for many more months to come. His hair has grown back in patches, and until he gets completely out of the danger zone for infection, he can't get any implants. Thank whatever deity above that he was spared the indignity of castration; the fire had just reached that area when he flipped into the fountain.

He goes from the hospital to his house, which feels like a hospital, with its sterile white walls and counter tops. A nurse comes to help him change his bandages and make him meals every day. He's barely got the energy to do normal things like folding laundry or sweep the floor. He sleeps fourteen, fifteen hours a day. His lips have finally started to get sensation back, though they'll never be the same. It makes eating hard, when he can barely feel what's dribbling from his mouth.

Being immobile for a year gives one plenty of time to think. Frederick thinks about brutally torturing Hannibal at least several times a day. He thinks about humiliating Alana and taking all of the recognition and glory she's gotten right out from under her. He thinks about suing Jack into oblivion, until the BAU head becomes a starving beggar on the street, pleading for change.

But he refuses to think about Will. He has suffered so much pain over the last year. He doesn't need to add more by thinking of what could have been. Not that it really could have been. All those words, all that connection... it was a lie to make Frederick a pawn.  _You can have me_ , Will had said, and Frederick had fallen for it: hook, line, and sinker.

A year and a half after the Dragon, Frederick can't help but hear through the grapevine that Molly Graham has changed her name and moved herself and her son far from the area. He wonders if she took all the dogs, or scattered them to the wind. Will would've despised her for doing so. He also wonders who's living in the house now, if anyone at all. This leads him to a random Google search for properties, and lo and behold, the cabin pops up. It's a fairly reasonable price, and no one has snatched it up. Maybe the fate of its former owner is keeping people from taking a chance.

_I've never even been there_ , Frederick thinks as he debates picking up the phone and calling the real estate agent.  _He lived there with his wife. How would it look to my colleagues if- oh fuck my colleagues._  He picks up the phone.

Three months later, he moves into the property, selling his own house. Too many painful memories there, between Abel Gideon in his wine cellar and Will Graham's long con on his heart. Ironically, having never been to the cabin before moving in, the connection to Will is only superficial, in that this is a very 'Will Graham' sort of house. Frederick installs a few modifications (central air and heat, cable hookups, a garage for his car), orders up some lovely Amish furniture from Pennsylvania, and ensures that every mirror is once again banished from the property. He's managed to avoid looking at himself for more than a millisecond for many, many months now.

He manages to get a nice settlement from the FBI, enough to pay for his health care bills, and the burns make it hard for him to hold a stable job, which qualifies him for permanent disability payments. It basically means that he never has to work again, as long as he doesn't spend extravagantly. So most days, he sits in his cabin, or sometimes on the porch, reads the news, and watches the wilderness. He slowly regains the strength in his muscles; chopping wood in the winter is great exercise, as is clearing away foliage in the summer. 

Every so often, he'll have visitors; old acquaintances, a random second cousin or great aunt (his parents have been dead for years, and his brother doesn't speak to him). Even with the scar tissue healed as much as it can be, and the hair implants, and a bit of cosmetic surgery on his own dime, Frederick can't stand to leave the cabin and let other people see him. He gets food and any supplies delivered twice a week, and adopts a furry, devoted Bernese Mountain dog named Bianca for company.

He still publishes that book on the Tooth Fairy - his own harrowing experience made for a juicy few chapters, and helped push sales. He used an old picture on the cover jacket, even if he wasn't fooling anyone. He'll use that picture on any future works for the rest of his life. History will remember the "before" Frederick. Not the "after" one.

Somehow, despite all odds, he's a survivor.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Three years to the day that the Red Dragon and Will Graham destroyed his old life, Frederick hears a knock on the cabin door. Bianca lifts her head from Frederick's lap and growls softly at the door, clearly sensing the tension coming off of him.  _Food delivery should be tomorrow_ , Frederick thinks, setting down his tablet.  _And no one is supposed to be visiting._

He gets up off the couch, padding over and peeking through the peephole. No one seems to be there.  _What the fuck..._  He grabs the shotgun that rests by the door and pushes the curtains on the windows aside. Still nothing.

Then he looks down, and sees the trail of footsteps in the snow by his door, leading up to it and then away, around the porch, around the corner, towards the rear door...

There isn't enough time to panic. He hears a  _swish_  flying through the air, and feels a stabbing pain in the back of his neck. "No..." he moans, dropping to the floor. Bianca growls and whimpers behind him, and he tries to twist to look at her, but his vision goes blurry... and then black.

 

~

 

He wakes up on his own couch, hours later, when the sun has set. The first thing he senses is the warmth coming from the fireplace; someone has kindled a fire. The second thing he senses is the presence of another being. He blinks his eyes open, and his heart almost stops.

Hannibal Lecter is sitting in his armchair, reading a novel. He looks barely changed from when Frederick last remembers. The only difference is that his hair has been dyed brown, and cut much shorter.

"You have a lovely home, Frederick," Hannibal says, looking up from the book. "I'm quite impressed at your turn from modernism to a more rustic abode."

Frederick tries to speak, but words don't come out when he opens his mouth. He jumps when the front door snaps open, blown partially by the wind and partially from the two creatures bounding inside.

Bianca gallops through the door and right over to Frederick, piling onto his lap and barking happily at seeing him awake. Frederick wraps his arms around her, so glad to see that she's alive and safe. When he sees the other man coming in, he realizes why Hannibal didn't kill her.

"She's a beautiful creature, Frederick," Will says, pulling off his knit cap. His hair is the same color, but he's sporting a crew cut, and he's clean shaven. A thick line of scar tissue covers his left cheek. "You've taken great care of her."

Frederick stares at him for a good twenty seconds, saying nothing. Then he bursts into tears, burying his face in the dog's coat.

"Frederick?" Will says, voice pitched with concern.

"Give him a moment, William," Hannibal says. "This must all be very shocking."

"I thought... thought you both were dead..." Frederick sobs, hugging Bianca tightly, feeling very much like a child.

"I imagine you still wish I was," Hannibal says. "As for William, on the other hand..."

"Hannibal, stop it," Will says. "This is why I wanted to let him know in a slightly less drastic manner."

"Why are you here?" Frederick gasps out, torn between terror and what he doesn't want to admit is relief that Will is still alive.

"Hannibal... can you give us some time?" Will asks. "Take Bianca for a walk- Frederick, I promise, if he hurts her, I'll snap his neck myself. Okay?"

"You are the  _worst_  guard dog," Frederick sniffs, letting her go. "Should have gotten you some classes. Let you learn how to protect me."

"If you had, she  _would_  be dead," Hannibal says, shrugging on his coat. "You are lucky to be too trusting of the world, even after all you have been through." He takes Bianca's leash and they go out the front door.

Will turns back to look at him. "May I sit?" he asks, motioning to the spot next to Frederick on the couch. Frederick considers this, then nods, pulling his legs up and pressing himself into the other end of the couch. Will sits down, resting one leg over the other.

Frederick has calmed down enough by now to think over his words carefully. "You could have let me be for the rest of my life. Why come see me now?"

"I wanted to give you time," Will says, tugging his gloves off. "Time to heal, to decide whether to keep going. I needed a message from you. Something that would tell me to make myself known again. Buying my old house is certainly an interesting message."

"But it's been over a year since I moved in," Frederick says, picking at the couch cushion. "You got the message you needed. Why now?"

"We needed to make sure it was safe to come," Will says. "We've been overseas for quite a while. The FBI is still looking for us. Jack has a good reason to believe we're still alive. We stay low-profile when they're very active. Currently our last known sighting was Shanghai, so I'd say we've thrown the tail for now."

"So you're here. What for? Plan on gloating? Finishing me off?"

"Frederick-"

"Don't," Frederick says, shaking his head. "You've always been good at lying, Will. Try telling me the truth."

Will looks at him for a moment, and reaches a hand out to rest on Frederick's knee. "We're here because I want to be here. I wanted to apologize to you, face to face. And to see... if you want to come with us."

Frederick gapes at him. "What- go with you? You and  _Hannibal_?" Some hidden fury snaps to the surface. "No. Fuck  _off_. You- look what you did to me!" He pushes up off the couch and tugs his turtle-neck up to his armpits. The scar tissue is a thick criss-cross of lines over his abdomen, sprawling and spiraling like wicked vines, disappearing below the line of his pants. Frederick doesn't know what his face looks like, but he's felt the scars and he can imagine the worst.

Will looks him up and down, then has the good decency to lower his gaze and look ashamed. "I never wanted this," he says.

"But you knew what you were doing."

"I did." Will nods. "I told myself you'd be fine, even when I knew I was putting you in danger. I lied to myself until it was too late." He glances up. "You didn't deserve it."

Frederick tugs his turtle-neck back down and sits back on the couch, cupping his hands in his lap. "Was any of it real? Was I ever anything more to you than a means to an end?" He closes his eyes, swallowing hard. "Because it was the happiest I'd ever been in my life. And then it was all gone."

Warm arms pull Frederick forward, and Will embraces Frederick, holds him like a lover, one hand against the back of his neck, the other around his waist. "It was real," Will murmurs, kissing his forehead. "I just didn't realize that until I'd given you up to the Dragon."

Frederick slumps against his chest, the shock of human contact after three years bubbling up deeply buried feelings. "You left me to die," Frederick gasps out, tears welling up. "... why would you  _do_  that?"

"Frederick..." Will nudges his head up. "I left you to  _live_. And you have, more than I could've hoped."

Now Will leans in and kisses Frederick, very softly; even with the reduced sensation in his lips, they still tingle. Frederick shudders and grips Will's shoulders, riding the wave of desire that batters against his rational mind. He wants to give himself over, so badly, but he can't forget about that one little complication...

"Wait," Frederick says, jerking back. "What about Hannibal?"

"What about him?"

"You ran off together. You left your wife and eloped with a man who would very much enjoy killing me."

"I don't plan on allowing him to kill you, Frederick."

Frederick shakes his head. "He's in love with you. Any fool can see it."

Will nods. "And I love him. That doesn't change what I feel for you."

"How can it not? I'm not going to play second fiddle to your 'murder husband,' William. I have a little enough dignity left for that."

"You have the same importance to me as he does."

"Why?"

"Because you've seen my darkness, and you still wanted me. You listened to what I had to say and believed it, when it would've been easier to write me off as deranged. Because... the parts of me that are still human are there because of you. Hannibal is the devil on my shoulder, but I'm not my whole self without an angel keeping me fighting for the light."

"I'd hardly call myself an angel," Frederick mutters, feeling a bit flattered. "But... thank you."

"You'll come with us, then? Hannibal has sworn to not harm you, or let any harm come to you. We've got safe houses all over Europe, and plenty of funds, especially if you add some of your own. Bianca is welcome to join us." Will smiles. "I'd like to have a dog again."

Frederick gives him a tentative smile and looks around the cabin, so lonely with only him and Bianca occupying it. It would be easy to pack up a few essential items and just go...

"No," Frederick says. "No, I'm... I'm not able to follow you both. I've built a life that I'd like to try to enjoy. And I'm not sure I'm ready to forgive you completely."

Will looks a bit crestfallen, but he nods. "I understand."

"But maybe... in a few years," Frederick says, smiling when Will perks up. "Maybe then. Keep visiting me, and one day, I may be ready to go." He glances towards the front windows. "Hannibal has been gone for a while."

"I asked him to give us some time," Will says, hands slipping down to skim the hem of Frederick's waistband. "Wanted you to myself." He brushes a palm against Frederick's groin.

"Wait." Frederick grabs his hands. "You don't have to..." His body is betraying him, as Will's touch is waking his lust from its long coma. "I don't need pity sex. Being by your side will be enough. You can't still find me attractive."

Will frowns. "And what if I do?"

"Then you're a liar." The demon of self-consciousness crawls up his spine, and makes his stomach twist up into knots. "I'm hideous. I can't even bear to look at myself."

"Frederick... when was the last time you got a good look at yourself in a mirror?"

"Three years," Frederick mumbles, feeling his face flush, though with the scar tissue, how could anyone tell? "I can still pretend I'm the man I was before, even if everyone else can see what I really am."

"Hold on." Will gets up and walks out the door. A minute later, he returns, holding a long black case, the size of a paperback novel.

"What is that?" Frederick asks, suddenly nervous.

"A makeup case. Disguising my scars is sometimes necessary when we travel." Will sits next to him, popping the button on the case. "More importantly, it has this."

Frederick sees the flash of reflection on the mirror in the case, and instinctively shrinks back, covering his face. "No!" he yelps. "I refuse to do this!"

"Frederick..." Will's voice is a low rumble. "You need to trust me. Please."

"I can't..."

"Yes. You can."

Frederick peeks through his hands, seeing Will hold up the mirror to show Frederick's silhouette, face masked by his fingers.  _I can't, I can't, I don't want to know..._  But natural human curiosity gets the better of him. He slowly lowers his hands.

Oh... it is worse than he could've imagined. The scars are everywhere: tiny patches of unharmed skin overshadowed by the wide swaths of burn scars that scream at him from the reflection. And yet...

Frederick traces the curve of his own jaw, his sharp nose, soft cheekbones. He is not unrecognizable, as he had feared. Beneath the cob-webbed white lines, the angry red splotches... he is still there. He can see himself.

"Our scars have the power to remind us that the past is real," Will says. "You and me. It was real. And I still really find you attractive."

Frederick takes the makeup case from him and puts it on the floor. Then he drags Will over to his side of the couch, kissing him like a desperate man clawing for air. Will tears at his clothes, murmuring reassurances as they both remove any and all garments

"Tell me you love me," Frederick moans, digging his fingers into Will's back.

"I love you," Will says, kissing down his neck, nudging his legs apart. "You're gorgeous, dear..."

Of course Will has a condom, and a bottle of lubricant (not that Frederick doesn't own a bottle. He's a hermit, not a priest). Will was pretty cocky, assuming he'd be able to sway Frederick enough to be able to use them. Then again, Will does know him quite well.

"I swear, if Hannibal comes back right now, I'll kill him myself," Frederick hisses as Will penetrates him.

Will laughs against his throat, pushing in deeper. "No you won't... And no he won't..."

 

~

 

Will and Hannibal stay for a few days. Hannibal doesn't make a single veiled threat or hidden pun about murdering Frederick while he's there, which is a pleasant surprise.  When they leave, Will gives Frederick a long, lingering kiss. "We'll be back soon," he says.

Over Will's shoulder, Hannibal is looking at them with a neutral expression. Frederick wonders if the man is plotting out a long, complicated scheme to murder him, but when Will turns to face Hannibal, the man actually  _smiles_.

"Stay safe, Frederick," Hannibal says as they get into the car. "Avoid publishing these last few days in your next work."

There isn't any malice behind the words.  _I make Will happy,_  Frederick thinks as he watches them drive away.  _And Hannibal is happy that Will is happy._  A sense of relief floods through him, and for once, he is certain that he is safe.

Frederick steps through the front door, and is struck by the quiet. Will and Hannibal were surprisingly chatty this weekend; vague about the specific locations they've visited, but detailed enough that Frederick could be entertained by their travels. Having spent so much time alone, Frederick tends to talk less than he did before, so it was nice to converse with someone other than an empty room and a dog who doesn't understand him.

The silence is overwhelming.  _They didn't say when they'll be back_ , he thinks, swallowing hard.  _What if they don't come back?_  What if something happens to them, or Will decides this was a mistake? Suddenly, the prospect of months, potentially years of loneliness sounds awful.

He can't call them; they don't have cell phones. He'll never catch them by foot. If they get onto the main highway, he'll never find them.

Frederick snatches his car keys from the side table and races down the steps. Bianca follows him, jumping into the passenger seat, barking excitedly. Frederick guns the engine, and prays the tires won't give out on the freshly fallen snow. He speeds down the dirt trail, taking the turns at much too high a speed.

He starts pounding the car horn, hoping they'll hear the noise. When he comes around the corner, he sees their car pulled to the side of the road. Frederick practically jumps out of his car, racing towards them. Hannibal rolls down the driver's side window as he approaches. Will's head pops into view on the other side.

"Frederick, what is it?" Will asks as Frederick stops in front of them, panting.

"You're f-forgiven," Frederick says. "Still have that extra plane ticket?"

Will lets out a short laugh, and Hannibal's mouth quirks up in amusement. "We do," Hannibal says. "Will you be joining us, then?"

"Let me pack a few things," Frederick says, standing up straight. "You've ruined me for isolation and hermetic life permanently."

Will rolls his eyes. "What a shame," he says. "I keep ruining your life." He smiles.

"Please keep ruining it," Frederick says, grinning at him. "Don't ever stop."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I COULDN'T MAKE IT A SAD ENDING I JUST COULDN'T. *so weak* Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Cry with me over my problematic fave Chilton and ChillyWilly over at nighthawkms.tumblr.com or on twitter @nighthawkms.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism appreciated!
> 
> For more ChillyWilly, Preller, and other Hannibal nonsense, check out my tumblr at nighthawkms.tumblr.com, or my twitter @nighthawkms


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